


There Are No Words

by thealphagate_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-03
Updated: 2006-04-03
Packaged: 2019-02-02 17:53:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12731451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphagate_archivist/pseuds/thealphagate_archivist
Summary: After a particularly difficult mission, Daniel's sadness threatens to overwhelm him as he confronts a very painful memory. Fortunately, Daniel has Jack.





	There Are No Words

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).

  
Author's notes: minor character death; references to Daniel's parents, Jack's son; no dialogue (there are no words).  


* * *

We ride home in silence, part ways at the door. We had showered before leaving the Mountain to wash away PX7-334, but I want to shower again, to wash away the Mountain. To wash away the heavy shadow that followed me through the Gate and even now slides in and out of my peripheral vision whenever I turn my head. 

Wrapped only in a towel, I lay on the bed, too hungry to sleep, too tired to eat. Images flit through my mind, disconcerting and disturbing, refusing to be pinned down for study and labeling. Words are my tools, my way of understanding the world, and tonight there are no words. 

Rain drums against the skylight, clouds obscure the stars. Jack's downstairs, locking windows, testing latches, though he might as well be on another planet. I'm alone and lonely in this cavernous void in my head. 

We were there on a rescue mission. One small tribe, seemingly insignificant but with a rich oral history of the Ancients. Or so the Tok'ra said. Maybe they lied, maybe not. Anubis believed them. He was on his way. We were there to re-locate them. Proud, honorable people. We had only three days to convince them. We failed.

Raging fury was left behind at SGC, now exhaustion encases my body like a sarcophagus, heartbeat muffled, soul benumbed, limbs motionless. Unable to fend off that dark, formless shadow tormenting me.

_They would not leave their home. 'This is our land. We will be pushed no further,' their leader says, politely refusing our help the evening of the third day. 'We make our stand here, to live or die.'_

_'But your wives, your children,' I argue._

Without moving my head, I watch Jack appear in the room, passing in and out of my vision. He's dressed only in Levis and the muscles of his back shift in shadow as he checks the windows, opening one only enough to let in a cool breeze, then disappearing into the bathroom.

_As we emerge from the hall, we stop at the top step and watch Jack and the kids playing a rowdy mix of soccer and football. Dunedin, the leader, smiles at Jack's antics, the children's laughter, the wild twists and turns. Suddenly I have an image of Jack with Charlie and his friends and my heart fractures._

In complete silence, he turns off the light, moves to the bed and eases down next to me. Useless gesture, that. Where I am, Jack cannot reach me. I stare through the skylight, savagely happy endless, empty space is blacked out by wispy, ephemeral clouds. 

_Rohric, the leader's son, breaks away from the game. 'Daniel,' he offers his hand and we walk to the end of the wall and gaze at the murals. Rohric starts to sing, a melodic chant that tells of the Ancients. I smile at him. What he and his people could teach me._

_His father calls him, calls all the children, into the hall. I walk over to Jack, who is sweaty and happy. 'Great people, Daniel,' he tells me, gulping water from his canteen. 'Great place, a little piece of heaven.' We eat our MREs quickly, trying to formulate yet another convincing argument to get these great people to leave their little piece of heaven._

_Later that evening, we walk into the hall and stumble onto hell. Women, children, elders, families -- all together and all dead or dying. Warriors share the cup with their wives, mothers kiss their children. They drink and then they die. Rohric spots Jack and me. He smiles. His father kisses his head, gives him the cup. He drinks, hands it to his mother. She smiles, drinks, kisses his cheek._

_Rohric snuggles between them, blissfully happy, absolutely sure of his parents' love, his place in the universe. He waves to me. His father's gaze falls on me. He nods, as though thanking me for me for our efforts, for affirming his decision. They shudder briefly, then slide to the floor still holding each other and die._

_I cannot desecrate their decision or their hall with my anger, my grief. A father dying with his son. A mother protecting her son by keeping him with her even into death. A little boy who will never grow up alone. I run from the hall and scream my wordless rage at the sky, at the injustice, at the goddamned goa'uld who wreak death and destruction wherever they go._

_'Sir,' Carter shouts, 'we have to leave now.'_

_Jack grabs my arm, more to hold me close than to pull me along. Anubis's death gliders chase us to the Gate. A heavy sadness and the echo of my screams follow me back to SGC._

There are no words from Jack now, just the soft susurration of his breath, the drumming of the rain, the occasional caress of his fingers in my hair.

_No platitudes during the briefing, no empty phrases, none of those things people who weren't there feel they need to say: 'Not your fault. You did everything you could. It was their decision. Don't blame yourself.'_

_'What happen out there, people?' General Hammond asks._

_'Masada, General,' Jack tells him, 'It was Masada.'_

_The General closes his eyes and winces._

_'I do not understand this term, "Masada," O'Neill,' Teal'c states._

_'A fortress near Israel's Dead Sea.' Jack sounds so weary. 'A refuge for a small band of resistance fighters, their last stand against Roman soldiers.'_

_'The siege of Masada was nearly 2000 years ago, but it is still taught in military history classes at the Academy,' Sam takes up the tale. 'The Romans first cut off any means of escape, then they built ramps and catapults. Eleazar and his band of Jewish families held out as long as they could, but it was inevitable that the Romans would soon break through their defenses. Instead of waiting for certain defeat and enslavement, the group chose death. They burned all their possessions, then took their own lives. When the Romans finally broke through the last barricade, they found only the dead.'_

_My eyes closed, I quote from memory Flavius Josephus's account:_ "Let our wives die before they are abused, and our children before they have tasted of slavery, and after we have slain them, let us bestow that glorious benefit upon one another mutually." _Choking back any emotion, I add my own thought, 'The dead remain together forever.'_

_Teal'c bows his head in respect and acknowledgement. As there seems nothing left to say, the briefing ends._

Visions of Rohric, laughing, playing, singing, flicker against my eyelids. Rohric nestled between his parents, safe, loved, taken care of, never alone. Despite my best efforts, stray tears leak from my closed eyes. 

Jack shifts slightly beside me. I wonder if he would have chosen to die with his Charlie if General West hadn't beckoned. 

The ghost of Charlie, whom I know only through pictures, joins Rohric. Another young son who died too soon, the victim of an unjust fate, as sure as Rohric was. The ghost boys kick a ball between them down a dusty path, then turn and wave to me. Their shouts and laughter echo long after they've disappeared from view and I am left alone.

More tears trail across my temples and into my hair. Jack knows grief, knows how to let a man grieve. One strong hand cradles the nape of my neck, the other rests on my bicep. No other contact between us, although he is close enough that his breath ruffles my hair. I'm so cold.

_I'm back in the museum, waiting for Mom and Dad to finish. Tired of tripping over me, Mom points to a pillar and tells me to wait there. Bored, I translate her shopping list into hieroglyphs. Winged god of death becomes bird of death becomes dead bird, and I cross chicken off her list. I know this will make her laugh later and then Dad will ruffle my hair._

_'Claire,' he'll say, 'there are no words to describe our Danny.'_

_'Yes, there are,' I will answer with all the assurance of an eight-year-old with his own thesaurus. 'Brilliant, hilarious, clever, exceptional, genius...'_

_The creaking of the hoist doesn't attract my attention at first. Nor does the first scrape of rock against rock. Not until my mother calls out do I look up. In that long-ago split second that remains as clear in my memory as this morning, my parents huddle together. My mother lifts her arm and says my name, then the cover stone falls and my world ends._

For years I was sure she was warning me away, but tonight that dark shadow grips me hard and won't let go. It envelopes me, sucks my breath away, presses me down hard, forcing me to consider something I have purposely avoided all my life.

What if she was beckoning to me, drawing me to her, to them? I could have gone with my parents into the next world, like Rohric. I could have snuggled between them, blissfully happy, absolutely sure of their love, my place in the universe. We would all be together forever.

I wouldn't have been alone. 

No growing up in foster homes, wishing with all my heart for my parents. No years of looking for love and acceptance, both personal and professional, and finding only ridicule and rejection. Forever wandering without finding a home.

I don't cry, at least not often and always privately, at all times putting the feelings of others ahead of my own. No one's comfortable with a man's tears. In the dark, when I was a child, I cried for my parents. Once for my grandfather. Tears of frustration during my graduate school years, for my loneliness, the humiliation and the disgrace. Once again for my forced separation from my beloved academe; although by then, I was mostly numb. 

But until now, I had never cried for the little boy I was, the little boy who might have wished to spend eternity with his parents. Like Rohric. _'The dead remain together forever.'_ Not going on ahead like Charlie did. Not being left behind like I was.

A half-strangled sob escapes me. I hope the thunder drowns it out. 

Tears, unchecked, flow faster. Jack's fingers tighten on the back of my neck. He moves his hand from my arm to my chest, right over my heart.

At that tender gesture, a wave of love crashes over me, banishing the dark shadow that had a stranglehold on me. I have Jack. Each of us were once alone and struggling to cope with our pain, but now we have each other, misery having burnished away all pretense, all concern for conventionality. Anything we have suffered in the past makes our present all the more treasured.

I am not alone, no longer looking for love and acceptance. I have a home, here in this room, on this bed, under Jack's hands.

The ache in my heart eases, but I'm left drained and bereft. 

Jack not being able to protect is like me not being able to talk. Right now, he's reaching the end of his endurance. No need for both of us to be miserable tonight, so I roll over and nestle my head into Jack's shoulder. The towel comes undone, with some help. He gives a great sigh of relief and pulls me close, arms wrapping around me, leg thrown over mine. Surrounded by Jack, I blink away tears and smile into his collarbone.

So protective. He struggles with it, with respecting my space. Instinctively he walks just ahead and slightly in front, on every planet, on every sidewalk, always putting himself between me and any possible danger. Occasionally he catches himself and smiles ruefully, shrugging his apology. Of course I call him on it, but secretly, I don't mind. To feel loved and valued and treated as something too precious to lose? No, I don't mind at all.

Certainly not tonight, when I need it most. I need Jack's strength to banish the shadows, to let those little boys -- Rohric, Charlie and me -- go to their separate fates, each respectfully mourned. To shelter me until I get my equilibrium back.

I breathe in his scent, sketch hieroglyphs on his back, close my eyes in sheer relief at being held. His cock stirs, slowly fills and lengthens against my thigh. I'm ridiculously flattered, but Jack gives an embarrassed chuckle and angles his hips away, probably thinking he's being insensitive to the sadness I'm feeling. 

After any difficult mission, we are eager, almost desperate, to affirm our survival in the most elemental way. Despite the sadness and emptiness I thought would pull me under and make tonight impossible, I want Jack now. Want him to claim me, to mark me, to remind me I have a place in this world. I pull him back, insinuate my thigh between his and gently rock his hips. His reaction is instant and gratifying.

Pushing me over onto my back, Jack nudges my knees apart to loom over me, hand still gripping my neck. Our bodies press together from the waist down and I can feel Jack hard and wanting. He ravishes my mouth, stroking, nipping, taking charge. His hips thrust slowly, gently against me.

I had felt so empty, so cold, and now Jack's vitality, his life force, begins to warm me. He reaches between us for my cock. His callused fingers stroke and caress in just the right way. He knows me so well. But it's too soon, I have nothing to give. I remain limp in his grasp, even as he is so hot and hard next to me. 

Tears threaten again. I want, I need, yet there are no words. Trusting Jack to know, he always knows, I curl his fingers around his own cock and spread my thighs a little wider.

He gasps and stills for a moment, gathering himself. Then, disregarding his knees altogether, Jack raises his hips up a bit, leans over and nuzzles my neck, pants in my ear. His leaking cock touches my belly with little wet kisses on every down stroke.

Running my hands over his back, I can feel Jack's muscles flexing, down across his chest where his heart pounds against my fingers, along his neck where his blood pulses through his veins. Jack is alive and vital and vigorous. 

I slide my hands down to his ass, sense that he's close, his breathy moans in my ear so erotic. Slipping over his hip, I cup Jack's balls, already pulled tight to his body. His hand speeds up, then he stiffens, thrusts three, four times.

As he shoots onto my belly, the thunder rumbles overhead, nearly drowning out his whispered, 'Mine, Danny, mine, oh god, you're mine.'

Jack eases aside just enough. With sure, slow strokes, he rubs his semen into me, collarbone to cock. I could tell Jack of fourteen ancient cultures in which this is a sacred ritual, at least nine modern-day others where it's a rite of passage for young warriors. I could describe what just happened into more than a dozen languages. Or I could just lie here and let Jack rub his come onto my skin and revel in the feel of it, the smell, the proprietary, possessive way he touches me.

Jack maneuvers the towel out from under me and gives us both a desultory swipe. Almost unconsciously, he runs his hands over me. A perimeter check just as surely as he checked the house earlier. Assuring himself that everything is safe and secure. And I am.

With great tenderness, we rearrange ourselves into our usual positions: Jack's arm around me so he can massage tight back muscles, my leg applying some heat to Jack's bad knee. Maybe in the early morning hours, we'll wake and Jack will roll me onto my belly and enter me. His lean body will cover me, his fingers entwined with mine, and together we will strengthen each other enough to face another day.

Sometimes we save the world and sometimes we lose those closest to us. Jack couldn't save Charlie. I couldn't save my parents. Together, we could not save Rohric. Ever aware that any day could be our last, we make certain to save each other every night.

Rain drums against the skylight, clouds obscure the stars. We lie in the dark, peaceful and warm and together. There are no words. And none are needed.


End file.
